


Rebel Girl

by KonamiKofi



Category: Mao Mao: Heroes of Pure Heart (Cartoon)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Adventure, Bikini Kill - Freeform, F/F, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hybrid AU, LGBTQ, NbLW, Nonbinary Character, Other, Punk, Rebellion, Riot Grrrl, Sex Jokes, Slow Burn, cursing, more tags to be added!!, nonbinary reader, rating may change but honestly? who knows, wlw, yes the band
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:20:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25557235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KonamiKofi/pseuds/KonamiKofi
Summary: ♪ When she talks, I hear the revolution. In her hips, there's revolution! When she walks, the revolution's coming. In her kiss, I taste the revolution ♪
Relationships: Tanya Keys/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 5





	1. Double Dare Ya'

**Author's Note:**

> You're the lead singer of a well-known punk band. You don't have much in your life, save for your close friends, your band, and your piece-of-shit boyfriend. But, you make do with what you have. Then one night at one of your concerts, your life is changed forever by a certain tanuki bounty-hunter.

You run your hand through your hair, taking a deep breath. You peel back the curtain to peer at the crowd outside. You force your eyes to scan the crowd as your bandmate, Holiday, strums her guitar gently. You turn back and lock eyes with her for a moment before nodding. It’s in tune. That means there’s not a lot of time left to stall with. They smile back at you, shooting you a small thumbs up. 

“Hey, you okay?” 

You turn to your bassist, Rylan: “I don’t know.” Your eyes scan the crowd again, looking for a familiar face. Maybe you missed him? There’s a lot of people after all. But… wouldn’t he wave to you? Or text you when he got in? You check your phone, only to be met with a blank screen. He hasn’t texted. 

“Can you see him anywhere?” they ask.

You stay quiet. You scan the crowd more frantically, looking for your partner’s familiar face. There’s hundreds of people, and yet...you’re alone. He isn’t here. Again. “No...I don’t think he showed.” You move to look Rylan in the eyes, turning your back to the crowd. Their eyes project pure concern, although their tail flitters in annoyance. You push down the anxiety, reminding yourself that their annoyance is directed towards your boyfriend, not you. How many times has he rain-checked you like this? He said he would be here this time. But… he always says that. You dig your claws into your arm, forcing the tears back. You look at the hardwood of the stage, trying to take your mind off of your emotions. You don’t know what to feel anymore. You need to stop trusting him like that: he never follows through. 

Rylan puts their large hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently. They don’t make you look back up, but you can feel their eyes boring into you. 

They lower their voice to a calming baritone. “Don’t worry about it dude. He’s a fucking piece of shit if he can’t even be arsed to show up to your big day. Come on, let’s get this show on the road. Take your mind off him, yeah?” 

You breathe deeply, steeling yourself: “...Yeah. Okay. Fuck him.” You look back up, meeting the bright smile of your best friend. They punch your arm lightly, flashing you a pair of devil horns as they move to their spot on stage. 

You take another deep breath, turning back towards the crowd. You give a thumbs up to the stage manager, and the curtain is rolled back forcefully. The clatter of mechanics is nothing compared to the deafening roar of the crowd. You smile. Yeah, fuck it. You don’t need him. 

You hold the mic up to your mouth. 

“Amator, how do y’all feel about revolution?” 

The crowd roars back. You smile as you start to walk across the stage. You wave your free arm, calling to the crowd again. “I can’t hear you! I said Amator, how do you fuckin’ feel about revolution?” The crowd roars back again louder. 

“That’s what I like to hear!” You skip back, waving to your band. They start to play, and the crowd roars once again. The distortion of the guitar makes your head rumble, and the bass makes your feet numb. You smile one more time before opening your mouth to belt out the opening lyrics. 

_“Hey girlfriend!_

_I got a proposition, goes something like this:_

_Dare ya to do what you want_

_Dare ya to be who you will_

_Dare ya to cry right out loud_

_"You get so emotional, baby!"_

Lyrics fly from your lips as you bounce around on stage. You’re not looking for your piece-of-shit boyfriend anymore: you’re just enjoying the adrenaline of the performance. You whip your head around with reckless abandon during the pauses, relishing in the excited energy. A small mosh circle starts out in one section of the crowd, and you wave to your band to play louder. 

_“_ _Don't you talk out of line_

_Don't go speaking out of your turn_

_Gotta listen to what the Man says_

_Time to make his stomach burn._

_Burn, burn, burn, burn.”_

There’s something about the cheer of a crowd that makes your heart race. Or maybe, you just feel free for once. No more appealing to men: You can fucking call for a girl-revolution and be **_heard._ **No more fear. No more men. 

_“You're a big girl now_

_You've got no reason not to fight_

_You've got to know what they are_

_'fore you can stand up for your rights_

_Rights, rights?_

_You do have rights!”_

A few girls cheer happily near the front of the stage, reaching out for you; yet, there’s one who stands there calmly. A small girl, maybe 5’4” at most, looks up at you calmly with a gentle, alluring smile on her face. She seems out of place, compared to the excited crowd. Even her clothes and makeup are… pristine. No rips, no smudges...not necessarily the Riot Grrrl look. Her black eyeliner forms perfect wings that stand out against her dark skin, and she appears to have drawn little whiskers on her cheeks. Her red leather jacket hugs her sides and arms tightly, as compared to her loose shirt. Her dyed, red curls bounce around as she moves her head to watch you bounce around on-stage. Her ears remain fixed to her head, never twitching at the loud noise emanating from the stage. You flush at the calm attention. You lock eyes with her for a moment, and she wiggles her fingers gently at you in a mock-wave. You smile through your words, fighting back the heat of another blush. You hold her gaze for a few more seconds before forcing yourself to look at someone else. 

She never moves from her spot as you roll through the rest of your setlist. You exchange quick glances with her throughout the rest of your songs, unbeknownst to the rest of the crowd. 

You shake out your hair as you finish your last song, hot as hell from the exertion. 

“Thank you so much, Amator!”

The crowd roars back at you as you hand off the mic to the stage manager. You look back at the crowd to catch another glance at the tanuki, only to see her moving through the crowd. She looks at you again, flashing her sharp canines. Yeah, okay, why not? You move off the stage with a renewed vigor. Rylan chuckles as they lift their bass over their shoulder. 

You trot quickly down the shitty halls of the venue. You’ve gotta clean up, and quick. You find your band’s prep room and dart inside quickly. You have half the mind to shoot the rest of your band a text as you run a comb through your hair frantically. 

‘Hey, don’t come in for a few’ your text reads. 

‘Lmao, over him already?’ Rylan responds. 

‘don’t ruin any of my stuff!!! i will burn down ur house if you get cum on my stuff’ Holiday texts. 

‘shut the hell your mouth’ you respond. You chuckle at your intentional typo before turning back the mirror. You’re not actually gonna fuck her, of course. You’re not a cheater, after all! It wouldn’t hurt to talk to her a little though... maybe get her number. You run a damp cloth over your face to wick away the sweat when you hear another ping from your phone. 

‘hey sorry I couldn’t make it.’ It reads. 

You pause, breathing deeply. Fuck. What do you even say to that? Did he really have to text now? You can’t tell what you’re mad because he ruined your mood, or if it’s because only texted after the show was over. Or maybe it’s because he didn’t give a reason as to why he didn’t show up. He couldn't even be bothered to put a comma, or capitalize! You put the comb down, closing your eyes for a second. Okay, maybe that last point was a little bit petty. You rub a circle into your temples, trying to calm yourself down. You would have had to deal with this eventually, you suppose. 

Your thumbs hover over your phone, mind racing as you try and figure out how to reply.

‘I’m over it.’ No, that’s not good enough. 

‘Why couldn’t you make it?’ No, that’s not enough. 

‘I’m breaking up with you.’ No, that’s kind of bitchy. You delete it after a moment of hesitation. Wait, is that actually bitchy? Or is it assertive? You retype it only to delete it again. No, you have to do that sort of thing in person. Or would that be dangerous? Would he try to hurt you if you broke up with him in person? You groan, throwing your phone to the side. You pull up a chair and flop into it. The cold, metal chair stings your burning skin, and you relax deeper into it to cool off. You groan: seriously, why did he have to fucking text you now? Why do you have to deal with this shit? 

A dull thud against the door pulls you out of your internal monologue. 

Yeah, he can wait. Hell knows you’ve waited for him before: it wouldn’t hurt him to have a taste of his own medicine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Double Dare Ya by Bikini Kill


	2. Calling Card

“Hey, come on in.” You open the door to allow in the tanuki girl, and she strides in confidently. 

She walks around the room slowly, taking her time to observe her new surroundings. Her ears twitch lightly as she analyzes the dingy room. “Hell of a show you put on. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re still standing after all that. Must be tiring, yeah?” Her voice is smooth and alluring, taking your breath away with ease. She moves around to look at you, bouncing on the balls of her feet gently. Her short curls bounce along with her, and you feel yourself flush at the graceful action. 

”I-thank you. I mean, you kind of get used to it after a little while. I don't think I’ve seen you around before. What’s your name?” You stammer, cursing yourself internally for the flub. You sit back down in the metal chair, struggling to get comfortable. You watch her take another lap around the room in your peripheral vision. She runs her hand along the wall as she moves, never quite settling in a single spot. 

“Probably cause this is the first time I’ve been at one of your concerts,” she chuckles, “I’m Tanya. Tanya Keys.” 

“...As in tanuki?”

She laughs, “God! Yeah, as in tanuki.” She sits down on one of the crates in the room, and you turn your chair towards her. She crosses her legs at the thighs, leaning back on the crate with her hands behind her. “Anyways, not to change the subject off of my  _ absolutely genius name _ , but I had something I wanted to talk to you about.” 

You hum, leaning forwards. 

“Well,” she starts, “you travel a lot, right?”

“Uh, yeah, I suppose. We’re on tour right now. Why?” You tilt your head, confused at the sudden change of conversation. 

“Have you... seen anything strange lately?” She asks. She leans in to look you in the eyes, and feel somewhat unnerved by the intensity of her gaze. Your immediate thought is ‘yeah, this is the fucking punk scene, what do you think?’ but...she seems serious about this. You hold your tongue and direct your thought towards the question. You lean into the back of your chair, running your hand through your hair. You look up at the ceiling, giving a deep sigh. Have you seen anything strange lately? You feel her eyes locked onto your frame, unwavering in their intensity. 

After a moment of thought, you reply, “I haven’t really seen anything out of the ordinary, no.” You see her start to frown, so you start talking again: “But I mean, I can keep an eye out. Is there anything in particular that you’re looking for? You don’t seem like a pig.” 

She chuckles, “No, god no. I wouldn’t be caught dead with a cop, much less working as one.” She pauses, as though choosing her words carefully, “I’d... keep an eye on your friends though, sweetheart.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Well,” she starts, “to be honest, your band is great. It’s been drawing in a lot of people from around the country, so it’s only natural that some,” she pauses, “..stuff...would happen at your concerts. But it looks like you guys have left quite a bit in your wake. I think you’re cute, so I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt here.” You flush at the comment, and she smirks. She rummages around her pants pocket and pulls out her wallet. She unclips it, opening it to a wide array of cards. She hands you one of them, and you quickly skim the words. 

❧ Tanya Keys ☙

IVBUAF OBUALY 

ZBWLYUHABYHS OBUALY 

At the bottom of the card reads a standard phone number with a strange area code. Probably from a different county, you muse.The card is thick, as though to protect it from damage. It’s bordered with little doodles of ghosts and leaves, although you can’t seem to focus on anything but the gibberish under her name. Is it a foreign language? It doesn’t look like anything you’ve ever seen before… You look up to ask her what it means, but she’s already up and moving. You didn’t even hear her get up! She glances at herself in the mirror briefly, fluffing up her hair a little bit. She avoids your perplexed gaze almost intentionally, as though to avoid your questions. 

“Well darlin’, I best be heading out. Lots of things to do, lots of sights to see!” she crows, waving as she moves towards the door. “Call me if you see anything strange.” 

You bolt out of your chair to stumble after her, desperate for answers. But by the time you get your mouth open, she’s already shut the door. The room is deafening in its silence, allowing your thoughts to swallow you. 

Tanya Keys… 

You glance at the card again, running your thumb along the textured paper. You amble over to the cheap vanity, fishing your wallet out of one of the drawers. You open it slowly, sliding the card into one of the card slots. You move, dazed and confused. What just happened? You pick up your phone, if only for something to do. Your lock screen reminds you of your boyfriend, but you put the thought out of your mind for now. You can’t think straight. You’re not ready to deal with this, yet. 

‘Hey, it’s fine to come in now,’ you type to the band chat. 

‘damn, that quick? I feel bad for you, haha” Holiday responds. 

‘Nah, we didn’t do anything. She just kinda talked for a while? I have no idea what just happened tbh.”

‘Weird. Wanna talk about it over dinner?’ Rylan responds. They send another text immediately after: ‘One of the locals told me bout this lil diner on West Ave that’s apparently rlly good. Wanna hit it up?’ 

Yeah, that’s Rylan alright. You mull over the emotional drainage of a social event for a moment before deciding that it would be good to get out: ‘Yeah, that sounds awesome. We all goin’ together?’ 

Holiday and Rylan respond with their respective ‘ye’ and ‘ofc,’ and you turn back to your vanity. Well, you might as well take off your performance makeup. I mean, now that Tanya’s gone, there’s really no one to impress. And after that whole conversation, you’re certainly not going to chat up the waiter. You rub at your face aggressively with a makeup wipe, happy to be free of the thick paint. You breathe happily as the cold air hits your clean skin. It’s pretty, but you hate wearing so much of it. But, you need to show up clearly on camera. That surprised you when you first started performing: you didn’t know there were so many factors involved in music! You thought it was just...music. You write a song, you play it, and people listen: you didn’t think about stage design or film. Then again, you never thought you’d get popular enough to have to worry about all these extra bits. You wouldn’t have it any other way, though. You’d take some makeup-induced acne and sore feet over your old, boring life any day of the week.

You look around for your comb, only to be met with a bare vanity. That’s odd: didn’t you just leave it here? You could have sworn you left it on the vanity. You shrug your shoulders, deciding it isn’t worth it. You probably chucked it somewhere and forgot about it: it’s just a cheap comb, after all. 

A knock on your door brings you out of your search. Holiday and Rylan walk in, opening the door before you can call out to them. This is their room too, after all. 

“You ready?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FHVDUHDQ FLSKHU  
> VKLIW VHYHQ 
> 
> ________________________________
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3 Every kudos, bookmark, and comment means the world to me.


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